


Right Side of Hell

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Smoking Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 08:01:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9594770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: Damian's notgoodwith crushes. And when Jason catches him following him around one night, focusing on Jason's cigarette is all he can do to keep himself calm.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cadkitten](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadkitten/gifts).



> A commission for the absolutely wonderful Cadkitten!

Damian watched the flash from the lighter, the lick of the flame dancing up in the night air. Jason leaned into it, cupping a protective hand around it as it swept up along the end of his cigarette, held between his lips. Slowly, the end began to burn, until the edge had that golden-brown tint to it, and Jason was puffing out that first long drag. Carefully, he tucked his lighter away again, getting his cigarette between two fingers as he took another deep inhale, before pulling it from his lips, exhaling slowly.

 

“Anyway,” he continued, as Damian simply _stared_ . The smoke was wisping away, up into the air that didn’t _deserve_ something that had come from Jason Todd’s lips. At least, as far as Damian was concerned.

 

But what did he know? He was just a lovesick teenager. And _god_ that realization had left him loathing himself for days on end.

 

“Rich boy like you shouldn’t just be out wandering the Narrows like a tourist,” Jason said, pointing his cigarette at Damian. “Don’t care who you really are, Damian. To anyone who sees you, you’re that little Wayne boy worth all of daddy’s money.”

 

Another drag. Still slow, and Damian sucked at his tongue, shoved his hands into the pockets of his black jeans and fisted them, digging his nails into his palms. His eyes couldn’t leave the burning end of it, or the way Jason’s lips clung to it, sucked around it. They looked slightly chapped, but he figured they were warm. That they’d taste like smoke and ash.

 

“I can handle myself perfectly well, Todd,” Damian managed, but the words were hard. They came from stuck within his throat, almost wavered and he hated himself, for this. For feeling this weak. For becoming someone who _wanted_ in such a way that left him unable to see anything beyond that.

 

Right now, there was no Gotham, no Narrows- there was just Jason and his burning cigarette.

 

“Oh, I know you can babybat,” he said, flashing this devil smile that was too much pointed teeth. “But they don’t. You’ll end up nearly killing someone and making a spectacle of yourself. What even brought you out here? Night off means just _that_.”

 

Damian swallowed. He didn’t have an excuse. He _should_ have, but his mind simply wasn’t working that far ahead. If this was Chess, he was already in Check, and Jason was about to take his King for the wanton little prince he truly was. He opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it shut again, instead choosing to glance away, scowling at the run-down, cracked concrete steps to the old building he’d caught Jason outside.

 

Or, more accurately, _Jason had caught him_.

 

Jason chuckled. “Speechless? I’m marking the calendar.” Jason took another drag, quickly flicking ash from his cigarette to the ground. “Everything alright? B not giving you a hard time again, is he? Because I can totally kick your dad’s ass. For a minute or two.”

 

“This has nothing to do with father.” Damian glanced back, and his eyes went straight back to the burning cigarette, as Jason brought it back to his lips. Jason paused, lips wrapped around it, seeming to notice. He took a drag, chuckling as he exhaled, and raising his brows.

 

“You want something kid?”

 

Damian felt his stomach flipping. He nodded, before he thought better of it- and then _regretted_ because he couldn’t just _admit_ that he wanted Jason to kiss him. Wanted Jason to shove him down that alley, kiss him until his lips were swollen. That he wanted his hands everywhere-

 

Instead, all he could say was, “Can I try that?”

 

Jason held the cigarette out, bemused laughter coming quietly from his chest as Damian took it. Damian studied it for a moment, before he held it to his lips, very slowly inhaling. It wasn’t his first time- but he didn’t need to admit that, to Jason. That would require admitting he’d made a point to study what brand Jason bought, just so he could try them himself, could try to make his mouth taste like _Jason’s_.

 

Or that he’d snuck off on patrol just to burn one and smell the smoke, because he’d smelled it on Jason’s jacket, before.

 

Damian flicked his tongue against the end of the cigarette, before pulling it away, tipping his head back slightly and exhaling. The smoke billowed up, as Damian dragged his tongue along the edges of his teeth. The cigarette tasted like the few others he’d slowly smoked, before. But now he swore he could taste something else, something clinging to his lips that wasn’t smoke or nicotine.

 

It _had_ to be _Jason_ , and Damian’s brain was screaming, speeding full force into oblivion trying to analyze it. He became so focused on it, staring up into the night sky, that he missed Jason taking the two steps to him, until there was a warm, large hand around his wrist, lifting his hand.

 

And Jason was pressing his mouth to the cigarette still between Damian’s fingers. His lips nearly brushed Damian’s fingers, as Jason sucked in a breath, before pulling away, exhaling.

 

“What’s on that mind of yours?” he asked, and he was too close, too warm, too _real_. Damian couldn’t suck in a breath, and instead went for the cigarette, taking a shaky breath, deep until his lungs burned with it. When he went to exhale, Jason’s other hand reached up, gripped his chin. Damian choked, the smoke sliding over Jason’s hand, just to the side of his face- and those eyes staring at Damian were the same color, same shade.

 

He could believe Jason was nicotine under smoke, himself. That he was addictive, would get Damian killed- and that he’d be _okay_ with it.

 

“You’re distracted,” Jason pointed out, and before Damian could speak, Jason’s thumb was up, rubbing along his lower lip. He let out a strangled little noise, and that smile was back, lips curving to the side in a smirk that made Damian melt, down to his bones, his marrow. “And I know that look.” Another pass of Jason’s thumb, and Damian’s lips parted of their own accord. Jason pressed gently, and Damian couldn’t stop himself, opened his lips more, let Jason’s thumb push in. The moment it did he was struck with the taste of salt, the feeling of Jason’s rough thumb against his tongue- and the hand around his wrist tightening, tightening so damn hard it ground into bone. And yet, he didn’t mind. “Kid,” Jason breathed, heavy with _something_ from his gut that had Damian whining, without meaning to. Jason pulled his thumb out, gripped Damian’s chin, jerked him in-

 

And when his mouth crashed to Damian’s, it was the right side of hell. Damian gasped, free hand grasping at the edge of Jason’s open jacket. Jason’s mouth was exactly like he had pictured- lips chapped but just slightly so, enough to snag against Damian’s lips in ways that had his hips nearly canting forward. He was warm, and he kissed exactly how Damian _wished_ people did- hard, pushing deep like he wanted Damian’s jaw to ache, in the morning.

 

Damian hoped it did.

 

Damian opened his mouth further, wanted Jason’s tongue to push against his own, but Jason was pulling away then, forcing Damian’s hand holding the cigarette back up. This time he slid his hand higher, took the cigarette, before he took his drag. He flashed his eyes down to Damian’s mouth, before he just smiled, pulling back completely and turning away. The teen stared as Jason bent over, picked up his discarded helmet in one swift movement, heading for the alley, as if he was just going to _leave_.

 

Oh, _like hell_.

 

Damian ran, turned the corner a moment after Jason did. He grabbed his jacket, turning him and backing him up against the wall. The helmet clattered loudly to the ground as Jason’s shoulders dug into the rough wall. His head tipped back slightly, but that smirk was still there. Damian scowled, _angry_ that Jason would dare take from him what he had wanted so badly, after a single taste- but before he could do another damn thing, Jason was flipping them. Grasping at Damian with one hand, shoving him off just enough to push off the wall, turn them so that _Damian_ was shoved against the wall. It dug at the soft fabric of his expensive button down, as Jason kept one hand gripping one shoulder, holding him back.

 

“Careful kid,” he said, lifting his cigarette. He took a drag, leaned in and exhaled the warm smoke against Damian’s lips. Damian shivered, mouth opening, and Jason licked his lips. “I’m bad for you.”

 

Damian trembled, didn’t bother to even hide it. He grasped at Jason’s jacket again, pulling him in, and this time Jason let him. He slid right up against Damian, dropped the cigarette onto the ground and got his other hand on the wall, splayed over the rough bricks to brace them. Damian shoved his hips forward, grinding into Jason- giving off a loud mewl when Jason ground right back.

 

“Shh,” Jason breathed, pressing his mouth to Damian’s jaw. “Quiet Damian, or you’ll get us some unwanted attention.” Damian bit at his lip, whining around it, as Jason got to his ear. He nipped at his earlobe, before sucking it into his mouth, and Damian squeezed his eyes shut, pushing his groin right up against Jason’s. The thick pants he wore on patrol and his cup left too many barriers between Damian and his _skin_ , but at this point he couldn’t care. His jeans were too tight, and the swell of his cock was obvious. He heard Jason chuckling, before his mouth was on Damian’s neck, those lips running over his pulse.

 

Damian released his lip from his teeth, hips bucking forward roughly. Jason growled, and Damian felt it down his damn spine. He gasped, grinding into Jason shamelessly, beginning to pant softly, swearing he’d never been worked up so damn hard and fast in his life. Swore he’d never needed something so badly.

 

“You really want this, don’t you?” Jason asked, and the hand on Damian’s shoulder moved, reached down and clasped around his hip. He jerked Damian in, and Damian groaned, tipping his head back and letting it smack against the wall, as he got the friction he so badly needed from Jason. “C’mon babybat, let’s see you nice and worked up.”

 

Damian tugged at Jason’s jacket, managed a _pathetic_ “kiss me”, and could find a deity to thank later when Jason did. His mouth was back on Damian’s, his tongue pushing past his lips like Damian so badly wanted. Damian whined as it pressed over his. He sucked at it, tried to get it between his teeth, but somehow he couldn’t, and Jason was pushing at the plush of his cheeks, before pinning his tongue down again. Damian tried to memorize his taste again, but the lingering hint of smoke was strong, was pushing down the hints of _whatever else_ still lingered in Jason’s mouth.

 

Damian felt the fingers on his hip squeeze, slide beneath the edge of his shirt onto hot, dark skin. He opened his mouth wider, but Jason wasn’t even going to let him breathe. Damian’s breath rushed out through his nose, and he felt his whole body trembling. When Jason did pull back, the teen sucked in a breath, as Jason’s puffed against his wet mouth.

 

“C’mon kid,” Jason panted, as Damian felt static overtaking him, spanning out through his body via his veins. “Think you can get off?”

 

Damian’s eyes nearly rolled, some sort of pathetic sound leaving his mouth. He didn’t know who he was, in that moment, _but he didn’t care_ . This was everything he wanted, the sheer size of Jason’s hand on his hip, the lingering taste of his cigarette on his mouth, the way he boxed Damian in, made him feel small even though he really _wasn’t_. He bucked, and Jason growled, digging his hips forward into Damian. Damian slid his clothed cock right against Jason’s groin, and Jason bucked again-

 

And Damian was gone. He cried out loudly, pulling at Jason’s jacket and jerking his hips violently forward. Jason groaned, dropped his head to the crook of Damian’s neck and kissed at the warm skin, as Damian rode out his orgasm. It took root in his belly, slid out in waves as he trembled, as he felt his cock pulsing, his underwear growing overly wet and warm.

 

He didn’t care. He was getting off and _Jason_ was the active cause.

 

When it began to ebb, he slumped back, muscles relaxing. Jason steadied him, his mouth growing gentler, until the kisses were light pepperings along his neck, jaw- even his warm, flushed cheek. “Come on back kid,” Jason whispered, the hand on the wall moving to stroke back Damian’s hair. It was affectionate, and Damian’s eyes moved, caught sight of Jason’s wrist. He smiled to himself, feeling good, _satiated_ , and Jason’s hand slid from his hair to his cheek. His thumb rubbed his cheekbone once, before is was moving down to his neck, along his chest.

 

Jason kissed him again, but slower now, lighter. Damian sighed into it, still not feeling like himself. His grip on Jason’s jacket relaxed, and just when he was growing conscious of the rhythm, Jason was pulling back, separating completely.

 

Damian’s arms dropped to his sides, and he watched Jason fishing around for his cigarettes again. The flattened pack appeared, another cigarette was produced, and it was tucked back, his lighter coming out again. Damian watched him light it, watched him take a long drag, exhale in a breath that was far too shaky to be _Jason_.

 

And then he was laughing. Chuckling and raking a hand back through his hair, messing up his bangs, that white streak. Laughing and Damian couldn’t hate it, but he didn’t fully _understand_.

 

“Shit kid,” Jason managed, a waver to his voice. “You really get under a guy’s skin.” He took another drag, the hand leaving his hair, sliding down and lingering, by his belt- like he didn’t know what to _do_.

 

Damian realized Jason hadn’t gotten off. That his cup probably kept most of the _good_ feeling from getting to him- that he was probably hard. He bit at his lip, and Jason’s hand slid back up his body, in a line Damian followed perfectly, before it disappeared into his jacket.

 

When it came back, fisted, it was offered to Damian. He stared at it for a moment, before he lifted his hand, held it out, and Jason dropped something against his palm. Damian pulled his hand closer, looked at the simple key sitting there, furrowing his brow.

 

“Apartment key,” Jason said, the cigarette pinched between his lips. He pulled it away, and Damian swore he was going to smoke the entire thing, every bit of nicotine and ash and smoke needed to keep him _sane_. “I know how to break into all my safehouses. Figure I should be a gentleman, give you the real key.” He took one final drag, as Damian pocketed the key, before he held the cigarette out. Damian took it, pressing it to his lips as Jason bent over, picked his helmet up for a second time. “Figure out something good to tell the Bat,” he offered, “because if you come visit, you’re not going home by morning.”

 

Jason tugged his helmet on, and when he spoke next, it came out filtered, _mechanical_ . And it made Damian’s cock _dare_ to twitch again.

 

“Don’t be late.”

 

Jason turned, and without another word, left Damian in the alley with the burning cigarette. Damian watched until he was gone, before he looked at the cigarette. Instead of bringing it back to his lips, he simply leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. His underwear were tacky now, cold, and he wanted to get _out_ of them. Figured, if he took up Jason’s invitation, he would. Very, _very_ quickly.

 

He smiled to himself, simply letting the cigarette burn, enjoying the familiar scent of smoke. He’d give Jason a head start- ten minutes. That was it. And then he’d follow. And when he went home, _whenever_ he want home, he knew he’d smell just like Jason’s cigarettes. Taste like them too.

 

That worked for him. Damian was more than happy with this addiction. He figured Jason burned better than any cigarette could, and by the end of the night, he hoped he _knew_ if every inch of him was just as hot as the end that burned between his fingers now, dropping ash onto the ground.

 

He turned his head, looked out at the empty street at the edge of the alleyway. Only nine and a half minutes now.

 

Damian couldn’t wait for the rest of the night- and the morning- to truly begin.


End file.
